


Good Angel

by lalaland666 (orphan_account)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Whump (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Gabriel is a dick, Gabriel loves no one, Good Omens Kink Meme, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Sexual Assault, Sexual Harassment, Slut Shaming, Traumatized Aziraphale (Good Omens), Victim Blaming, except himself, graphic depictions of rape, heaven sucks, just warning you, this one is dark y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22244830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lalaland666
Summary: Perhaps… perhaps that’s what the difference was. Aziraphale had never outright said no, not in all the centuries of… whatever this was. And… and, well, it hadn’t exactly gone well the last time Aziraphale had expressed any sort of reticence towards Gabriel, and things had definitely... not gotten worse, of course, there was really nothing untoward going on, not really, they’d just sort of...escalatedsince then, but… but maybe, maybe if he just flat-out asked Gabriel to stop…An angel wouldn’t force themself onto someone else. Would they? That surely had to be a sin. And angels were sinless beings, weren’t they?Aziraphale suddenly recalled his own tendencies towards indulgence, his food and his scrolls and all of his worldly habits. Angels certainly could sin.But not likethat.Right?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 414





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt on the Good Omens kinkmeme: _Archangel Gabriel fancies himself a good boss, wanting to be chummy with the lesser angels in his flock, having them take selfies with him, standing close, being generous with hugs, patting them good-naturedly on the rear for a job well done, and even adapting that charming human custom of kissing his subordinates in greeting/farewell. And for the most part, his subordinates are happy to indulge, grateful even (as they should be)._
> 
> _Except imagine one day this lowly principality Aziraphale, not even one of your better or more attractive subordinates (although the flush on his cheeks and the tears glistening in his eyes does wonders for making him more delicious), after centuries of being fine with it, suddenly starts stepping back when you step into his personal space. Starts pulling away when you put your arm around him. So you keep stepping until he's flush against you. You pull him tighter, start squeezing his ass and let your hand rest there. Make him deliver his reports by sitting on your lap._
> 
> _Still he defies you, and after a perfectly innocent kiss, has the audacity (with those beautiful tears threatening to spill) to ask in a trembling voice, so politely, for you to stop doing that. That won't do. You start adding tongue and nip at his lips. You squeeze hard enough to bruise. You start surprise inspections of his corporation, forcing him to strip so you can inspect, prod, grope. And then one day after a round of passionate kissing, Aziraphale has the audacity to whisper, "Crowley"._
> 
> _Big mistake. Because you're the Archangel Fucking Gabriel, and no way is Mr. Soft Sunshine going to blow you off for a demon. It's about time for him to remember to whom he belongs._
> 
> This one is a whole lot darker than my usual fare, and it's my first time writing something like this, so I hope I did okay with it!!

Aziraphale knew that Crawly hadn’t meant anything by it, of course. The hug had been meant to be amiable, friendly even. A simple thanks to Aziraphale for healing the bruise left on Crawly’s ribs after a chance encounter with an over-enthusiastic camel, and for drawing the camel away before it could do any more damage. It was just… it was unexpected, and surprisingly strong, and though it felt nothing like Gabriel’s arms around him, Aziraphale still stiffened, still felt the way his cheeks flushed. 

“Sorry,” Crawly said immediately, drawing back. 

Aziraphale blinked. “Sorry?” 

Now Crawly was flushing, too. “For the. Um. The hug. I didn’t want– I didn’t– I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

“Oh!” said Aziraphale. “You– it’s quite alright. You can– of course, if you’d like–“ 

“Nah,” said Crawly, shaking his head. “I’m a demon, I’m not a monster. I wouldn’t want to force you into anything.” 

“Oh,” said Aziraphale again, both relieved and a little concerned. “Well. All… alright, then.” 

There was a brief pause. 

“Um. I should… I should get going,” said Crawly. “Thanks again for the… um… the hand.” 

“You’re very welcome,” said Aziraphale, and he watched as Crawly walked away. 

Crawly had sensed that Aziraphale was uncomfortable, without his having to say anything, and he’d… he’d stopped. Just like that. 

_Well. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that he‘s a demon_ , Aziraphale thought as he walked off in the opposite direction, back towards the little hut that he’d come to think of as home. _He can likely sense discomfort, the same way angels can sense love and happiness. It was just… just easier for him to pick up on. And he’d said that only_ monsters _would want to– to push someone, to make them uncomfortable like that._ That sparked a deep discomfort in Aziraphale’s stomach. _And Gabriel isn’t a_ monster _, of course he isn’t. He’s an angel. An Archangel, at that. He likely… likely just thinks he’s being affectionate. He doesn’t understand that I’m uncomfortable. I’ve never actually_ said _anything_ – he was too afraid of what might happen if he did, but he couldn’t think that, couldn’t risk it, that bordered on disobedience– _but if I just… just make it clear that I’m not comfortable with it, Gabriel will stop. He’s not a monster. I’ll show him, next time I’m back Upstairs, and then this will all stop, and we can move on._

Aziraphale nodded to himself before stepping into the little house, picking up a scroll, and starting to read. 

###

The next time Aziraphale was in Heaven, Gabriel beamed over at him and came up to stand beside him, shoulders brushing as always through the layers of clothing. “Aziraphale! Good to see you. How’ve things been on Earth?” 

“Fine, fine,” said Aziraphale, and this time– this time, he took a deep breath, then sidled a half step away. Obviously not leaving, but also obviously uncomfortable. 

He hoped. 

Gabriel frowned, reaching out and throwing his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders, pulling him close again. “Everything alright, Aziraphale?” 

“Of– of course,” Aziraphale said, this time taking his half-step forwards, out of Gabriel’s grip. That should be plenty obvious, hopefully. Hopefully. 

Gabriel’s frown deepened, and there was a tiny flare of anger in his eyes. Then he grabbed Aziraphale’s shoulders quite firmly and stepped closer again, so close that his body was pressed up against Aziraphale’s, his voice quiet. “Is something _wrong_ , Aziraphale? Is Earth getting to you?” 

There was a threat in his voice. A quiet danger. A promise, that if Aziraphale didn’t accept this, Gabriel would pull him away from Earth, recall him to Heaven. 

Aziraphale shook his head, not stepping away again. “No, of course not. Everything… everything is fine. Wonderful. Absolutely tickety-boo.” 

Gabriel grinned, and his hand slid down Aziraphale’s back, coming to rest on his arse. Not squeezing, not really doing anything, just sitting there. 

Aziraphale fought back a shudder of revulsion. 

“Great,” said Gabriel. “I’d hate to think you were _losing touch_ with Heaven.” 

That sent a cold wave of fear down Aziraphale’s spine. Losing touch with Heaven meant… 

It meant Falling. 

“Of course not, Gabriel,” Aziraphale tittered, laughing nervously. “I– of course, I would never– Heaven is my home, I just–“ 

“Great,” said Gabriel, cutting off his rambling. Then he leaned forwards, and pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s lips. It was short, and almost chaste, but it was also _new_ , and Aziraphale froze, his eyes going wide. 

Gabriel pulled back, grinning. “It’s a new human custom. I thought it was just _wonderful_ , don’t you think?” 

“Hmm,” Aziraphale murmured, not quite willing to lie but also quite unwilling to contradict Gabriel again so soon. 

Gabriel’s grin widened, and he squeezed Aziraphale’s ass, hard. “Great. C’mon back to my office, and you can give me your report, yeah? Wouldn’t want to keep you from your work for too long.” 

“Of… of course,” Aziraphale breathed, and he let himself be led away, deeper into Heaven, hiding his fear and revulsion the whole way, unable to rid his mind of the feel of Gabriel’s lips on his.

###

It was another hundred years before he let himself dwell on it again. And, of course, once more, the doubts were raised by Crowley. 

They were walking down a street in Rome, side by side. It was late, and neither angel nor demon was entirely sober. They were just talking, laughing together, relishing in each other’s company, when they heard the sound of a voice from one of the alleyways, small and thin and utterly terrified. 

“No,” the voice pleaded. “Please. Please, please don’t–“ 

“I’m not doing anything,” another voice replied, taunting. “Besides, I think you like it.” 

“I don’t, I– mmph!” The first voice was cut off suddenly. 

Aziraphale darted down the alley the voices were coming from, and then froze. 

A man was standing there, clearly far more drunk than either of the supernatural entities who’d stumbled across the scene. He was pinning a woman up against a wall, kissing her forcefully while she struggled futilely in his grip. 

Aziraphale couldn’t move. It was… it was like… 

“Oi!” Crowley’s voice sounded, cutting sharply through Aziraphale’s mounting panic. “What the fuck d’you think you’re doing?” 

The man lurched back, but didn’t let go of the woman’s toga, turning just far enough to leer at them. Aziraphale felt his stomach plummet at the possessive look in the man’s eyes. It was hauntingly familiar… 

“Are you going to stop me?” the man asked, smirking. 

Crowley lowered his sunglasses, and all of the ruddiness of wine and lust drained instantly from the man’s face. 

“No,” said Crowley. “You’re going to stop all on your own, aren’t you?” 

The man nodded, finally letting go of the poor woman, before turning and darting off down the alley, running as quickly as he could in his state. 

Crowley stopped next to the woman. “You okay?” 

She nodded, very visibly shaken. “He just… just kissed me. It was–“ 

“Still not alright,” said Crowley. “Even if it was ‘just’ a kiss. Want an escort home?” 

“I’m just around the corner,” the woman said, shaking her head. “Thank you, though.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Crowley said, wincing slightly at the thanks. “Seriously.” 

The woman nodded, her eyes landing on Aziraphale for half a second, before she turned and left as well. 

Now it was Crowley’s turn to stare at Aziraphale. “You alright there, angel?” 

Aziraphale shook himself firmly. He was, of course. What happened between him and Gabriel– it was nothing like that. Wasn’t it? “Yes, absolutely,” he said, and his voice came out higher than he meant it to. “I’m perfectly fine.“ 

Crowley’s frown deepened. “You sure? It’s not like you, to just let a human do something like that.” 

Aziraphale flinched. Not humans, perhaps… “I’m alright, Crowley. Really. I just… I think I might retire, for the evening.” 

“Right,” said Crowley, none of the worry leaving his face. “Okay, then. D’you… d’you want me to walk with you?” 

Aziraphale paused, taking a deep breath. “Better not, dear boy.” 

“Right,” Crowley said again. “Well. Um. Be seeing you, angel.” 

“Of course,” Aziraphale said. 

Then he turned and walked off, feeling the way Crowley’s eyes bored into him the whole time and finding that he almost didn’t mind. 

The woman had been saying no, and quite loudly at that. Perhaps… perhaps that’s what the difference was. Aziraphale had never outright said _no_ , not in all the centuries of… whatever this was. And… and, well, it hadn’t exactly gone _well_ the last time Aziraphale had expressed any sort of reticence towards Gabriel, and things had definitely... not _gotten worse_ , of course, there was really nothing untoward going on, not really, they’d just sort of... _escalated_ since then, but… but maybe, maybe if he just flat-out _asked_ Gabriel to stop… 

An angel wouldn’t force themself onto someone else. Would they? That surely had to be a sin. And angels were sinless beings, weren’t they? 

Aziraphale suddenly recalled his own tendencies towards indulgence, his food and his scrolls and all of his worldly habits. Angels certainly could sin. 

But not like _that._

Right? 

###

Aziraphale found himself in Heaven once more a week later. 

He ended up sitting in Gabriel’s lap delivering his reports, as always. And, as always, the Archangel had one hand on Aziraphale’s thigh and one on his rear. And, as always, Gabriel leaned forwards after his reports ended and pressed his lips against Aziraphale’s. It was short, and he kept his mouth closed, but it still made Aziraphale’s entire body tense and his eyes burn with tears, remembering the alley and the man in it. 

Aziraphale cleared his throat, imagining Crowley’s concerned look and drawing a moment of strength from it. “Could you… could you please… could you please stop doing that, Gabriel?” 

Gabriel froze, both of his hands tensing, squeezing hard enough to bruise. Aziraphale winced, but he didn’t dare pull away, not with the sudden, stormy look in Gabriel’s eyes. 

“Are you rejecting Heaven’s affection, Aziraphale?” asked Gabriel, his voice low, dangerous. 

Aziraphale felt a cold wave of fear roll over him. “No! No, of course not, I just–“ 

“Then, are you trying to tell your superior what to do?” Gabriel continued, his eyes narrowing. 

Aziraphale shook his head frantically. “No, no no no, I would never– I didn’t mean–“ 

“Good,” said Gabriel, and then he shifted suddenly, the hand that had been on Aziraphale’s arse suddenly finding its way into his hair, pulling him into another kiss. Aziraphale tensed, expecting another short brush of lips, but instead Gabriel began to move, his tongue sliding out to brush against Aziraphale’s lips. 

Aziraphale gasped, and Gabriel took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue plunging into Aziraphale’s frozen mouth, and the principality would almost have been glad to be sitting if not for Gabriel’s other hand, still squeezing his thigh so tightly that he knew it’d leave marks. 

Eventually, after what felt like far too long but couldn’t actually have been more than a minute or two, Gabriel pulled back, his eyes still narrow and angry, scanning Aziraphale’s face. 

Aziraphale, for his part, was finding it difficult to do much more than stare back, his breath coming in quick, almost desperate pants. 

“I would suggest,” said Gabriel, “that you don’t say such silly things anymore.” 

Aziraphale nodded, trembling slightly. 

Finally, finally, Gabriel released his grip on Aziraphale, who scrambled to his feet, wincing slightly at the pain in his leg. 

“Until next time, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said, his voice still low and dangerous. 

“Until next time,” Aziraphale echoed, slipping from the office as quickly as he dared, feeling the tears building again. 

He didn’t let them spill. It was absurd of him to be so uncomfortable. He was an _angel_. It must have been a sign of something defective within him, that he wanted so desperately to get away from Gabriel’s touch. 

That he would much prefer for Crowley to touch him, instead. 

He banished those thoughts as soon as they came. That way lay danger. He may have been defective and sinful, but he was still an _angel_ , and he would obey. No matter what.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things… well, to say that they "get worse" would be to imply that there was something untoward happening. And nothing untoward was happening, Aziraphale was sure. So things don't "get worse". They simply… _escalate._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-con warning applies to this chapter hardcore, just to warn y'all

Aziraphale was surprised when, a mere three days after his last report, he received a summons from Gabriel. Normally, he could go weeks or even months in between visits to Heaven. Once, he’d managed an entire year away. 

No, no, he hadn’t _managed_ it. Or, well, he had. It had, of course, been dreadfully difficult, being away for so long. It hadn’t been any sort of relief. Heaven was his _home_. 

That was what Aziraphale reminded himself as he knocked on the door of Gabriel’s office, feeling oddly small in the vast emptiness around him. 

Gabriel opened the door, and grinned. “Hey, Aziraphale.” 

“Hello, Gabri– mmph!” Aziraphale’s greeting was cut off as Gabriel reached out, one hand in his hair and one on his back, drawing him into a sudden and passionate kiss. 

Aziraphale froze, not wanting to respond but helpless to resist. Eventually, Gabriel drew back, still grinning. 

“Come on inside,” Gabriel said, his hand in Aziraphale’s hair dropping– his other one didn’t move. “New policy being rolled out.” 

“Oh?” Aziraphale asked. His voice was higher-pitched than normal, he noticed. Like that night, in the alley. 

No. Couldn’t think about that. This was Heavenly love. It was _different_. It had to be. 

“Yep,” Gabriel said. “They’re having us inspect your corporations more regularly. Just basic maintenance, you know.” 

Aziraphale froze, hearing the door click shut behind him. “In-inspect our…?” 

“Your corporation, yup,” said Gabriel, finally letting go of Aziraphale completely and moving to stand in front of his desk. “Completely mandatory. So, strip. Let’s get on with it, yeah?” 

Aziraphale clutched at the neckline of his toga, feeling panic rising up in his chest. “Surely, you don’t–“ 

“Are you questioning me, Aziraphale?” Gabriel asked. 

Aziraphale paled. “No. No, no, no, of course not! No, I would– I would never–“ 

“Great,” said Gabriel, his smile not reaching his eyes. “Let’s go, then.” 

Aziraphale took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and carefully, carefully, removed his toga. 

Gabriel let out a low whistle. “Making an Effort, huh?” 

Aziraphale wasn’t watching, so he wasn’t expecting Gabriel’s hand on his waist, fingers ghosting slowly downwards. 

He let out a little yelp, eyes flying open, fighting the instinct to step back, to run, to get away. 

Gabriel’s eyes met his again. “You’re not succumbing to any _temptations_ on Earth, are you, Aziraphale?” 

Aziraphale swallowed reflexively, forcefully banishing the image of Crowley from his mind’s eye. “Of-of course not, Gabriel. You know me. Heaven’s– Heaven’s loyal soldier, always.” 

“Hm,” said Gabriel, voice low. He moved, slowly circling around Aziraphale, his hands still roaming, occasionally feather-light and occasionally forceful. Aziraphale held himself still, not trembling, not wavering. He was alright. This was fine. It was better than fine, it was literally Heaven. And Heaven– _Gabriel_ – would never hurt him. Right? 

The bruises on his thigh smarted slightly. He hadn’t been able to heal them on his own. 

Gabriel noticed, once he was standing in front of Aziraphale again. He sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Oof. I was a little rough, wasn’t I?” 

His hand brushed across the marks, then pressed into them, and Aziraphale bit back a whimper. 

“You can take it, right?” Gabriel asked, leaning forwards so that his lips brushed Aziraphale’s ear. “You’re a soldier.” 

Aziraphale nodded, not trusting himself to speak. 

Gabriel pulled back and grinned, then leaned forwards again, catching Aziraphale’s mouth in another long, passionate kiss, this time adding in little nips at his lips. They hurt, really, they didn’t feel at all good, though Aziraphale supposed that nothing about this had felt good yet, so that wasn’t entirely a surprise. Just another sign of how he was defective, in all likelihood. 

Aziraphale just stood there, letting it happen. This was Heaven’s will. It must have been. And as such, it would be wrong to deny it. 

Wrong to imagine, however briefly, that it was a red-headed demon kissing him instead. 

Finally, finally, Gabriel drew back, still grinning. “I think you passed. Just watch the gross matter, okay? We’ve gotta keep you lean and battle-ready.” He poked at Aziraphale’s stomach, then gestured to the toga lying on the ground. “Let’s get you dressed, yeah?” 

“Oh, I can do it myself, I don’t want to keep you,” Aziraphale stammered quickly. 

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Don’t worry, sunshine. I’ve got all the time I need.” 

Aziraphale swallowed back the wave of fear that crashed over him, and let Gabriel help him to dress again. 

###

Gabriel didn’t conduct his “inspections” every time, after that. And that was almost worse, in its own way. It meant that Aziraphale was constantly left guessing, wondering what was in store for him each time he was called Upstairs. 

He didn’t stop meeting with Crowley. It was comforting, really. Being around him. Aziraphale could forget, almost. And the way the demon looked at him, sometimes, when he thought Aziraphale couldn’t see… the quiet heat that passed between them, unspoken but not unnoticed, as they passed a jug of wine back and forth, or as they ate together, savouring more than the food, neither ignorant of the way the other stared… 

It all came to a head just over a year later, and– surprisingly– it wasn’t during an “inspection”. 

Aziraphale found himself sitting in Gabriel’s lap once more, and they were kissing. He’d started insisting Aziraphale respond to his kisses not long after he’d started deepening them, saying that to do otherwise was tantamount to a rejection. Aziraphale had hardly been able to force himself, up until he closed his eyes, and imagined red hair and a golden gaze and thin, gentle hands in place of broad, bruising ones. 

He’d managed to bumble his way through a proper snog, then, and Gabriel had laughed when he’d pulled away, and promised to teach Aziraphale how to do it properly. 

And so he had. They’d “practiced” regularly, and each time, Aziraphale closed his eyes, and imagined kissing a demon. It was wrong, surely, and terribly sinful, to crave a demon’s touch over the love of Heaven, but then Aziraphale wasn’t feeling particularly _loved_ at the moment. 

And so it happened that Aziraphale ended up sat on Gabriel’s lap once again, imagining that the hair beneath his fingers was flaming red instead of earthy brown, and as the other mouth slipped from his, pressing kisses to his jaw, Aziraphale moaned, the barest hint of a word in the sound. 

“Crowley…” 

Then he froze, his eyes snapping open. Maybe– he’d been quiet, maybe Gabriel hadn’t– 

But then Gabriel lifted his head, his cold, violet eyes boring into Aziraphale’s, alight with fury. 

“ _What_ did you just say?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. 

Aziraphale felt panic flaring up in his chest, and he tried to pull away, only for Gabriel’s hands to tighten on him, one fisting painfully in his hair and the other gripping his wrists, holding him in place. 

“I didn’t– I didn’t say anything, I never–“ 

“Liar,” Gabriel snarled, shaking Aziraphale’s wrists sharply. “Don’t lie to me, Aziraphale. You said the demon’s name.” 

Cold terror washed over him. “No, no, no no no, I didn’t, I would never–“ 

“Shut up.” Gabriel yanked on Aziraphale’s hair, and Aziraphale yelped at the pain of it. “Shut your stupid fucking mouth, Aziraphale. I know what you’re doing, down there on Earth. I know that you’ve been _fraternizing_ with the demon.” 

“What?” Aziraphale gasped. 

“Don’t you even try to lie to me,” Gabriel said. “An angel, lusting after a demon. You know that he doesn’t want you, right? He doesn’t care about you. You’re a temptation for him, at _best_.” 

Aziraphale didn’t want to believe it. He so desperately wanted it to be a lie. But then, angels didn’t lie, did they? 

Apart from him. 

“You’re a disgrace,” Gabriel said, sighing. “Succumbing to temptation, forgetting who you belong to… but we can fix that, I think.” 

He let go of Aziraphale’s hair and waved his hand, and both of their togas vanished. 

Aziraphale gasped, pushing Gabriel away, stumbling out of the chair. 

Gabriel stood as well, stalking slowly after him, until Aziraphale was standing with his back pressed up against a cold white wall, hands raised, pleading. 

“No, I can’t, Gabriel, _please_ –“ Aziraphale begged. 

“Lesson number one,” Gabriel said, grabbing one of Aziraphale’s wrists once more and _yanking_. “You don’t say no to me, sunshine.” 

Aziraphale sobbed as Gabriel threw him to the floor with a _thud_. The archangel followed him down a second later, kneeling in front of him. Gabriel gripped his thighs, hard and bruising, and forced them apart, shoved them up so his knees were practically folded to his chest, staring down between Aziraphale’s legs. Then Gabriel lifted one hand off Aziraphale and moved instead to line himself up. 

Aziraphale felt something hard and hot pressing up against his entrance. Panic flared inside him. He’d never done this before, not in four thousand years, but he knew enough to know that to do it bare, dry, with no preparation, _nothing_ – he’d never be the same again. 

“Gabriel, please,” Aziraphale pleaded, feeling the tears streaking down his cheeks and not caring, staring up into cold violet eyes and searching desperately for any hint of non-existent mercy in them, “please, I can’t– I’ve never– I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so very, incredibly, terribly sorry, I won’t– just _please_ –“ 

“Lesson number two, Aziraphale,” Gabriel whispered in his ear, his breath hot against the side of Aziraphale’s face. “I’m your superior. You _belong_ to me. So I do what I want.” 

Then he thrust in, and Aziraphale screamed. 

It hurt, a white-hot, stabbing, lancing agony– but, no, not like stabbing. That felt like a punch, at first, and it was only later that the pain came. This was a _tearing_ , a ripping, burning sort of pain that started in Aziraphale’s hips and raced all through his entire body. There was something hot trickling down his legs, and a slick in his hole that definitely hadn’t been there before and couldn’t possibly have been anything good, and the sharp copper tang of blood filling the air. 

Then Gabriel started to move, and everything else vanished. 

Aziraphale yelped, screwing his eyes shut desperately. He couldn’t resist, not against an Archangel. But that didn’t stop him from instinctively trying to squirm away, writhing pitifully underneath Gabriel, crying out with each new thrust. 

“Stop being difficult!” Gabriel snapped. There was the faint whisper of a miracle, and suddenly, Aziraphale couldn’t move. He was utterly frozen, held in place by a force far more powerful than he– and, physically speaking, there weren’t a whole lot of those in the whole universe. 

He opened his eyes, panicked, to see nothing around him. Invisible bonds, then, holding onto him, while Gabriel fucked him harder and faster. 

Aziraphale let out a sob, his head falling back again, eyes closing. Maybe, if he kept his eyes closed, he could block this all out, pretend like it had never happened– 

“Look at me,” Gabriel ordered. 

Aziraphale obeyed, he had to, vision blurry with tears, blue eyes meeting violet. There was rage in those eyes, and lust, and something else, something dark and possessive. Gabriel’s pace slowed to a stop. 

“You belong to _me_ ,” Gabriel hissed again. “Understand?” 

Aziraphale nodded, then cried out as Gabriel resumed his fucking, his hips moving erratically, the room filled with the obscene sound of flesh slapping together, with Aziraphale’s cries, with Gabriel’s grunting. Then Gabriel was shouting, too, his hips slamming home, and a second later he was coming, filling Aziraphale, hot and thick and like salt in the wounds Gabriel had left. 

Gabriel collapsed on top of Aziraphale, panting, still fully seated inside, and Aziraphale whimpered, turning his head away from the Archangel, closing his eyes desperately. He still couldn’t move, not even to lower his legs now that Gabriel had taken his hands off of them. 

Lips brushed against his ear. “I think you should be thanking me now, Principality.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes flew open. “Th-thanking you?” 

“If anyone else had been the one to find out about your little demon pet, they’d probably have taken it up to the top. And, y’know, colluding with the enemy is a very serious crime, Aziraphale. It might even be Falling material.” 

There was that now-familiar panic again, before his poor heart had even had a chance to calm from the... the... what just happened. Aziraphale’s breath hissed in sharply. 

“And, of course, if a demon caused an angel to Fall, well. Heaven can’t exactly take that lying down, can we? There would be consequences for _him_ , too, and they wouldn’t be pretty. The War, your demotion... you’ve seen what pissed-off angels can do. And that’s not even taking into account what _Hell_ might be planning. I don’t think they tolerate traitors any more than we do.” 

The panic flared again, brighter and more desperate. Imagining Crowley, at the mercy of either side, bound and broken… “Gabriel, please, _please_ , we never– he– don’t hurt him, it’s not his fault, he doesn’t even _know_ –“ 

“But,” Gabriel interrupted, propping himself you just enough to look Aziraphale in the eyes once more, still not pulling out even though Aziraphale could tell he was starting to soften, “I could be convinced to help you keep your little secret. As long as it doesn’t go any farther, I might even be able to help keep him _safe_.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “You– what? You would?” 

Gabriel smirked. “For a price.” 

Aziraphale knew what he meant. This. More of this, over and over, for God only knows how long. 

But if he could protect Crowley… 

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. “Yes. Whatever you want, Gabriel, I’ll… yes.” 

Gabriel grinned, then bent down to kiss Aziraphale, long and deep and passionate, and Aziraphale kissed him back. He had to. He’d just all but promised he would. 

Finally, finally, Gabriel pulled out and stood, snapping himself back into his toga, not a hair out of place. 

“It was a _pleasure_ as always, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said, grinning down at him and winking. “Until next time.” 

Then he turned and left the office, letting the door snap shut behind him. 

Aziraphale was left alone, crumpled, dripping, shivering, and thinking endlessly of _next time_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, I never write anything even basically explicit, let alone non-con, so I hope this was up to snuff!!


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finds out, and he's… not thrilled.

Crowley, wearing Aziraphale’s body, let himself be dragged into an office and shoved down into a chair. It was cold up here, and bright, bright enough to make him wish he had his sunglasses. Images kept flashing through his head, images of Aziraphale in Crowley’s body, facing the worst that Hell could throw at him. 

Aziraphale had warned, before they’d agreed to the swap, that Gabriel would be furious. That he’d make it hurt. Crowley had brushed him off. He could handle a pompous Archangel. 

The door swung open behind Crowley, and Gabriel’s voice sounded, low and taut with anger. “Aziraphale.” 

_Speak of the devil. Or, think of the Archangel, really._ “Gabriel.” 

The Archangel in question circled slowly around to stand in front of Crowley, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. There was a new look in his normally-impassive violet eyes, one Crowley had never seen on him before, a look of fury and hatred and… 

And lust. Crowley would recognize that particular glint anywhere. 

That was a bad sign. 

“I’m going to give you a chance, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said, stepping slowly closer, and Crowley forced himself not to shrink back into his chair. Aziraphale would be strong, he knew. Aziraphale would hold steady. 

“A chance?” 

“To make things right.” Gabriel put his hands on the back of Crowley’s chair, either side of his head, and leaned in, so close their noses were almost touching. 

Crowley leaned his head back, ever so slightly, a spike of fear in his chest, as much for Aziraphale as himself. Aziraphale’s body wanted to go limp. It wanted to submit. Some sort of muscle-memory, trained into it by the touch of Gabriel’s hands, the ghosting of his breath across Aziraphale’s plump lips. 

_How long?_

“I could be convinced,” Gabriel said, slowly, carefully, “to reconsider your punishment. I could just pull you from Earth, re-station you up here. Maybe, if you’re _convincing_ enough, I might even be able to protect your little demon, as well.” 

Crowley said nothing, his mouth falling open. Gabriel wasn’t– he wasn’t suggesting– 

The Archangel grinned, then, looking supremely smug, and leaned in. 

“No!” Crowley yelped, lurching back as far as he could, hating how his fear sounded in Aziraphale’s voice. “No, Gabriel, I don’t want to–“ 

Gabriel scoffed. “Since when has this ever been about what _you_ want?” He leaned forwards again, catching Crowley’s lips– _Aziraphale’s_ lips– with his own. Crowley turned his head away desperately, and Gabriel growled. “You know better than to say no to me, sunshine.” 

“You have nothing to hold over my head anymore,” Crowley said, shoving Gabriel back, and, thank Somebody, he went, lifting his body away from Crowley’s– from Aziraphale’s– and stepping away. 

Gabriel sneered. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t _like_ it. Don’t pretend you didn’t _beg_ me for it, like the little slut you are.” 

“I won’t do this any longer, Gabriel,” Crowley snapped, anger instantly overwhelming his fear. How _dare_ the Archangel act like whatever he was doing was _Aziraphale’s_ fault, when Crowley could sense all the muscles in Aziraphale’s body tensing in fear under his gaze, when he could hear the angel’s heart racing in his ears and feel the unstoppable speeding of his panicked breath? 

Gabriel snarled, and some memory buried deep in Aziraphale’s body rather than his mind quaked at the sight. 

Then Gabriel snapped, “Fine, you ungrateful whore. I think I’m gonna enjoy watching you die.” 

He stormed off, and the office door slammed behind him, leaving Crowley alone with his thoughts. 

And his thoughts were racing, far more so even than usual. 

_Aziraphale… oh, angel, what has he done to you? How long has he been hurting you? Why didn’t you tell me?_

_How did I never see?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One part left!


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to get better.

They survived. They survived their executions, and they landed back on Earth, and they went to the Ritz and then back to the bookshop, and Aziraphale was _happy_. Wildly, blindingly, dizzyingly happy. 

Then he turned away from re-counting his Wildes (again) and saw the look on Crowley’s face, the way his brow furrowed and his lips pursed, the way he seemed almost… was he afraid? It only lasted for a second before Crowley smoothed his expression out again, but Aziraphale knew he’d seen it. 

“My dear, are you alright?” he asked gently. “I’m sorry, I’ve been bouncing around so much… how are you feeling?” 

“I’m fine, angel,” Crowley said, and his voice was achingly gentle. “But… but something happened while I was in Heaven that I think we need to talk about.” 

Aziraphale’s stomach dropped. “Oh, no, my dearest, I’m so sorry, I’m so terribly sorry, I should have–“ 

“Nonono,” Crowley said quickly, holding up his hands and shaking his head. “Nothing happened to me, Gabriel didn’t actually do anything. But he… he tried to, and he said some stuff, and I just… has he? Has he raped you?” 

Aziraphale flinched at the word. “It’s not… I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t call it that.” 

“What would you call it, then?” There was a hint of anger in Crowley’s voice, and Aziraphale fought to keep from flinching again. 

“I… I was... it was...” Aziraphale stammered. “Well, while you and I were in Rome–“ 

“Rome?” Crowley blurted out. “This has been happening since bloody _Rome_?” 

Aziraphale flinched again, and Crowley softened immediately. 

“D’you… d’you wanna sit down? To talk about it. It might… I dunno, it might help.” 

“I…” Aziraphale blinked. “Um. That might… yes. Let’s.” He led the way to the back room. Crowley sprawled himself out on half the sofa, like always, and Aziraphale took a deep breath, then sat down beside him. Not in the armchair, on the sofa as well. 

Crowley let out a little noise of surprise. “You sure?” 

“Of course,” Aziraphale said, smiling gently. “I wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t.” 

“Right.” 

There was silence for a long, long moment. 

Then Crowley cleared his throat. “So. Rome. What happened?” 

Aziraphale sighed, leaning back and folding his hands tightly in his lap. He felt odd, like there was some sort of weight pressing down on his chest, and he could feel a flush rising, slowly but surely, in his neck. “It, um. Well, technically, I suppose it started a good deal before Rome. Just after… just after I was demoted, actually. I was put under Gabriel’s command, when I was reassigned from the Garden, and, well… Gabriel has always been a… a _hands-on_ sort of boss. Literally, in fact. He’s… he’s rather touchy. Stepping into one’s personal space, giving one claps on the shoulder or pats on the rear, kisses on the cheek in greeting, all that. And… and, you know me, I’ve never really been…” 

“You don’t like to be touched,” Crowley said, nodding, and Aziraphale saw as he drew in on himself slightly. 

Aziraphale took another deep breath, then reached out and grabbed Crowley’s hand. 

“Ngk– angel–“ Crowley stammered, making to pull away, but Aziraphale laced their fingers together gently, holding onto him. 

“No, I– I want– oh, unless you don’t, of course–“ this time, it was Aziraphale who went to pull away, until Crowley tightened his grip. 

“I do, I want to hold your hand, I want whatever you want to give me,” Crowley said. “I just… especially with this, angel, I need to make sure you actually _want_ it, that you’re not just doing it because… I dunno, you feel like you’re supposed to, or…” 

“I do,” Aziraphale confirmed. “Want it. I want _you_ , Crowley, and I have done for a very long time. And… well. That was rather part of the problem.” 

Crowley frowned. “What d’you mean?” 

Aziraphale sighed. “It… what I was talking about, with Gabriel. It would… it would... _escalate_ , every time I tried to say no. Kisses on the cheek became kisses on the lips became full-on snogging, you know. And… well, one time, while we were kissing, I might have…” Aziraphale flushed, staring down at their conjoined hands. “I might have said your name.” 

“Oh,” Crowley said, his voice incredibly quiet. 

Aziraphale chanced a glance upwards. Crowley was red, his eyes wide behind his glasses and his mouth hanging open. 

“Bet that didn’t go over well,” Crowley choked out. 

Aziraphale forced a laugh, remembering the rage in Gabriel’s eyes, the pain as he… “No. No, it didn’t, really.” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again. “After that, he… he figured out that… how I feel about you. And he said that he could protect you, keep you from attracting too much ire from either Heaven or Hell, so long as things between you and I didn’t go any farther than they had, and he could… do as he wished. With me. In exchange.” 

“Angel…” 

Aziraphale looked back down at their still-joined hands, bracing himself for Crowley’s words. For his judgement. He’d scoff, surely– he’d called it rape, earlier, but now he’d see that it was clearly nothing of the sort– how could it have been, if Aziraphale had said yes? Or perhaps he’d pull away, disgusted that Aziraphale had been _fantasizing_ about Crowley while kissing someone else. Or else he’d be furious at Aziraphale for lying, for pretending like Crowley was in less danger than he was, for acting like a single slip-up hadn’t nearly cost his poor demon everything– 

“I’m so, so, sorry, angel,” Crowley breathed. 

Aziraphale’s head jerked up, his breath hissing in. He hadn’t been expecting that. “What? Why?” 

“I should’ve… I dunno, I should’ve seen it,” Crowley said. He’d taken off his sunglasses, and his beautiful golden eyes were bare and earnest. “You’re my best friend, angel, I should’ve been able to tell something was wrong, I should’ve done something–“ 

“I never wanted you to find out,” Aziraphale breathed, looking back down at their hands, unable to hold that intense gaze, undeserving of the concern that clearly shone from it. 

“You could’ve come to me,” Crowley said, and it wasn’t an accusation, but it still made Aziraphale flinch. 

“I didn’t want you to know,” Aziraphale repeated. 

Crowley squeezed his hand, ever so gently. “Why not? Did he threaten you?” 

“No,” Aziraphale said. “Or, well, he did, but not over that. It was just– like I’ve said. But… I didn’t… I didn’t want it to change your opinion of me.” 

In his peripheral vision, Aziraphale saw Crowley’s head jerk back slightly. “Change my– why would it have changed my opinion of you?” 

“I _asked_ him to… to do all of that,” Aziraphale breathed. “I love you, I always have, and I wanted– and I still let him do whatever he wanted–“ 

“You didn’t have a choice,” Crowley said, and that aching, impossible gentleness was back as Crowley’s other hand joined their little tangle, warm and reassuring. “He was raping you, angel, you didn’t have any sort of choice.” 

“I did!” Aziraphale protested. “I did, after the first time I never said no again, I just let him do whatever he wanted with me, I was _weak_ , I just couldn’t _bear_ –“ 

“Stop,” Crowley said, squeezing Aziraphale’s hand more tightly. “Angel, stop, please, stop, it’s not your– wait. After the first time?” 

Aziraphale flinched, then nodded miserably. 

“The first time, meaning…?” 

“When I… when I slipped up. Said your name. He… he took me for the first time after that. Wanted to remind me who... who I belonged to.” 

Crowley growled. “The fucking... who you _belong to_ , what a fucking load of bullshit, you don’t _belong_ to anyone… What... what happened, then?” 

Aziraphale let out a bitter half-laugh. “I was rather begging him to stop. Made a bit of a fool of myself, really. Didn’t make a whit of difference, after all.” 

Crowley grit his teeth. “And then…?” 

“That was when he threatened you, and had me agree to… to do whatever he wanted, in exchange for your safety.” 

Crowley was silent for a long, long moment, long enough that Aziraphale looked up at his face, hesitant. 

Those gorgeous amber eyes were alright with rage, and Crowley’s mouth was twisted in a snarl. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, concern outweighing his fear and shame at the sight. “Are you alright, my dear?” 

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Crowley snarled. “The next time I see him, I’m bringing hellfire, and I’m gonna burn the slimy bastard alive.” 

“Crowley, you _can’t_ ,” Aziraphale said, clutching at Crowley’s hands, utterly taken aback by his demon’s anger. “You can’t, he’s an Archangel, he’ll destroy you–“ 

“He’s been _raping_ you for _two thousand bloody years_ , Aziraphale, I can’t– I can’t just– you–“ Crowley pulled his hands free and threw them up in the air. “I _love_ you, and he hurt you, and I can’t just let him–! Did anybody else know? Michael? Uriel?” 

Aziraphale flinched again. “Gabriel... he let Sandalphon have a few goes at me. And I do think the whole arrangement was... was rather common knowledge. No-one else knew _why_ , of course, and I think they all believed me to be the instigator, but–“ 

“I’m gonna fucking kill them all,” Crowley growled, jumping to his feet and starting to pace. “I’m gonna burn all of Heaven to the fucking ground, I swear–“ 

Aziraphale didn’t know what else to do. He grabbed Crowley’s hand once more, tugged the demon back down onto the sofa, and kissed him. 

Crowley froze, making a little “ _ngk!_ ” sound against Aziraphale’s lips, and then he melted into the kiss, hungry and desperate but still unbelievably soft, achingly gentle. 

It had _never_ been like this with Gabriel. Kissing Crowley didn’t hurt. He didn’t push Aziraphale further, he didn’t try to take and take until there was nothing left, he just kissed Aziraphale, kindly, gently, again, and again, and again, the soft press of mouth on mouth, warm and a little wet and utterly wonderful, before drawing back, panting slightly, his eyes wide and wild. 

“Angel– are you sure? Are you– do you–“ 

“I’m positive,” said Aziraphale. “If you are?” 

“ _Fuck_ , angel, yes, of course, _always_ , I’ve wanted to do that for six thousand bloody years.” 

Aziraphale’s breath hissed in. “That long?” 

“Since Eden. I’ve always been yours.” 

“Oh, Crowley… I’m sorry, I’m so terribly sorry for making you wait so very long.” 

“S’not your fault. You didn’t have a choice.” 

Aziraphale flinched. “I did, and I didn’t make the right one. Even so late as yesterday, I didn’t–“ 

“You were still under Heaven’s thumb. Under _Gabriel’s_ thumb. Don’t beat yourself up for it, angel, it’s not your fault. I know you didn’t mean what you said. I forgive you.” 

Aziraphale bit his lip, closing his eyes against the burning tears building in them. “Crowley, you don’t have to–“ 

“I do, though. None of it was your fault. _None_ of it. Not what Gabriel did to you, not what Heaven tried to do to Earth, not the fact that you wanted them to be good all the way until the end. It wasn’t your fault, angel. I promise.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. He collapsed forwards, burying his head in the crook of Crowley’s neck, pulling his demon close, and sobbing. 

Crowley held him though it, still oh-so-gentle, rubbing circles into his back, murmuring soothing words into his hair. “Let it out, angel. I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re alright now, you’re safe, I’ve got you. Let it out. I’m never gonna let them hurt you again.” 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale choked out, clutching the demon tighter. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

“Shh,” Crowley breathed. “You have nothing to be sorry for, angel. I’ve got you. Should we– here, let’s lay down, yeah? You can rest a bit. I’ll be here, if you want.” 

“Don’t leave, please, please.” 

“I won’t. I won’t. I’m here.” Crowley began to maneuver them, eventually getting himself flat on his back on the sofa, Aziraphale half on top of him, the angel’s head resting on his chest. 

“I’ll squish you,” Aziraphale murmured, picking his head up and starting to shift away. 

Crowley pulled him closer again. “I’m a demon. You can’t squish me. ‘Sides, I don’t mind.” 

“Really?” 

“Really. I’ll tell you if I’m uncomfortable.” 

“Promise?” 

“You know me, when have I ever missed a chance to complain?” 

Aziraphale let out a small huff of laughter, then slowly, carefully, lay his head back down. 

Crowley continued to hold him– not tight and possessive, like Gabriel would sometimes, but loosely, gently, giving Aziraphale room to shift around, to _leave_ if he wanted to. It was so different, so far removed from what Aziraphale had grown accustomed to. It was _nice_. 

But then, that was Crowley in a nutshell, wasn’t it? So different from the cold, harsh light of Heaven, from Gabriel’s constant demands. He never demanded anything, never asked for anything in return. He’d loved Aziraphale for _six thousand years_ , apparently, and he never once pushed Aziraphale too far, never once tried to take advantage, never once made an attempt to claim what could have been his due. He waited, patient as anything, and loving and kind and wonderful, until Aziraphale _chose_ him. And even then, he was still being careful. The hand rubbing circles across Aziraphale’s back was soft and warm, and it never wandered, never pushed. Just offered comfort and love, which Aziraphale was free to accept or deny. 

“I love you, my dear,” Aziraphale breathed. “I love you more than anything.” 

“Ngk,” Crowley muttered. “I love you, too, angel. Always have done. No matter what. ‘Kay?” 

“Okay.” Aziraphale closed his eyes, breathing in Crowley’s scent, soaking in the feel of his chest beneath his cheek, of the warm press of his hands, of the way their bodies fit together. 

He’d never done it before, but it felt impossibly easy to fall asleep, there in Crowley’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a ride. I hope y'all like it!!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this hot-ass mess. Kudos and comments are super duper appreciated!!!


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